


The Heat Is On

by icedteainthebag



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-14
Updated: 2009-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-21 19:09:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icedteainthebag/pseuds/icedteainthebag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s very hot on New Caprica, indeed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heat Is On

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Heat Wave](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/3972) by flamingo55. 



> I wrote this for [](http://bsg-remix.livejournal.com/profile)[**bsg_remix**](http://bsg-remix.livejournal.com/). I was given the arduous task of trying to remix the fabulous [](http://flamingo55.livejournal.com/profile)[**flamingo55**](http://flamingo55.livejournal.com/), and wow. Was that tough. Everything's just so gorgeous. :) The story I picked was [Heat Wave](http://community.livejournal.com/flyboy_nugget/2349.html), which is so many shades of win to begin with...mmmmmmm, sex on a rock. ;) If you haven't read it, make sure you do so, and give her lovely feedback.

Laura Roslin splashes in the water like she’s a child again, and for a moment she’s back on Caprica long ago, kicking her feet in the fountain at the Riverwalk in a time devoid of Cylons, hunger or uncertainty. Today she grins like that, giggles like that, feels the warmth of the sun like that. It warms her shoulders and the wet strands of her hair that frame her face.

Bill’s arms around her naked body, firm and tight, call her back from this delicious daydream into another kind of alternate reality, one in which people, for brief moments in time, can lose themselves in each other.

“Are you all right?” he asks, his voice gruff, but she can hear the joy within it, something so rare she wants to remember it forever.

Laura kisses his ear and nuzzles into his neck. “I’m home.”

 _Two hours earlier_

Laura Roslin had always loved water, but she hated it today.

Bill had arrived at her tent armed with a sack full of “supplies” for a day trip up into the hills so she could show him “that place” she wanted to build her “cabin.” Little did he care that she was hormonal and had been having intense hot flashes all night and into the day, despite the unrelenting “New Caprican” heat—it almost sounded like a resort, New Caprica, and it was anything but, she’d thought as she’d given Bill the most irritated, frustrated, “this is not the time” look she could muster.

“Let’s go,” he’d said. “Daylight’s burning, Roslin.”

Laura had huffed, run a hand through her tousled hair and eyed the sack over his shoulder. “There better be something good in there,” she’d growled as she pushed past him at the tent entrance.

She had practically heard him rolling his eyes behind her, and it’d steamed her even more than the humid, sticky heat she encountered in the strong New Caprican sun that instantly made her hair frizzy and her skin damp with dusty sweat.

“Motherfrakker,” she’d muttered under her breath.

x x x x

“Fine, this is it,” Laura says to Bill, less than enthusiastically. She’s hot as hell from the hike, is absolutely sure she looks like utter shit, but at this point just wants to accomplish his goal so she can go home and lie down.

She flings her pointer finger at the scenic clearing in front of them, yet feels a bit of her attitude melt away as she takes in the beauty of the locale. The stream running along the far side of the clearing that ended in the small lake, its water as clear as glass, and the thick cluster of trees around them that made the location all the more private.

“Huh,” Bill says as he sets down his sack. “Who the frak knew there was a place like this in a place like this.”

Laura laughs softly and wipes her brow as she wanders to a shady place near the stream. Bill picks up the sack and follows, and when she stops amid a patch of green grass, he unrolls the blanket he’s brought along and kneels down to unload his sack. She tries not to seem interested in the contents of his bag as she puts her hand on her hip and feels every trickle of sweat that runs down her body.

“How’d you find this place?” Bill asks.

“Nothing else to do,” she says. “Better than sitting around watching Baltar’s shitstorm brew.”

She glances down at him and his stare is a little confused. He makes a “huh” noise and then bows his head to tend to his work of unpacking the sack again.

“You know, I’m just about tired of cleaning up after his messes,” she says as she folds her hands across her stomach. She continues to watch Bill as he sets out the food and drink he’s brought—somehow, he’s found berries and what looks like a bottle of Caprican wine. She feels a little excited, but then remembers that she’s angry, upset, and feeling displaced. She shakes her head in disgust and exhales forcefully through her nose. “Everything’s frakked up. I could have told anyone that this would happen. It’s not like I can do anything. Frakkin’ people elected him in the first place. Now they want me to fix it. What the frak can I do?”

“Laura,” he says. “I don’t know what the frak’s wrong with you, but I came up here to have a nice time.”

She feels herself soften and immediately feels guilty for ranting at this poor guy who was just trying to give her a little break from all her worries.

“Sorry,” she says as she sits down next to him. She puts her hand on his thigh and pats it once. “I guess I’m still waiting for the ‘brighter tomorrow.’”

She starts to feel the sun radiating against her arms and can practically feel the steam rising from the back of her neck. She lifts her hair up with one arm, cooling off the skin beneath. Bill turns his head and she can feel his eyes scan her body, from her legs up her skimpy camisole—it was way, way too frakkin’ hot to wear actual clothes. He looks into her eyes.

“I like your hair like that,” he says.

“So you don’t like it any other way?” she says as she casts a pointed glare to him.

“Laura,” he cautions.

It’s then she looks into his eyes and feels, for the first time, the real reason why he brought her up here in the first place. “You brought me up here to get away from all that,” she says. She puts her hand over his.

“Yes,” he agrees as he picks up a bowl full of berries and hands it to her. She accepts it, her mouth watering at the idea of actual, fresh berries. It’s been too long.

“Thank you,” she replies, and she runs her fingers over her cleavage then, maybe just a little intentionally to draw his eyes to the area. He glances down, smirks, then picks up his bowl.

They eat in relative silence, and she notices that they’re acting subversive as they steal glances between bites and while the other seems not to be looking. Her eyes wander over his well-muscled arms and chest revealed by his tanks and she feels her breath catch in her throat as a shiver runs down her spine.

Her mood, she concedes, is getting progressively better.

“I think it’s a little cooler up here,” Bill says as he sips on his wine. It’s strong, and she’s been drinking it anyway, and it’s made her sweat even more but at least it’s giving her a dizzy, light feeling in her head. That is exactly what she needed. That, and more time to look at him.

“Maybe a little,” she says. She looks down at her arm and sees a large mosquito as it sucks hungrily on her arm. She bats it away with a hiss.

“Frak,” Laura grunts, a slight hint of her anger returning. “Even the mosquitoes are hungry on this frakkin’ planet.”

“I’ve seen bigger, on Scorpia one summer,” Bill says.

“Don’t one-up me, Bill Adama. I’m not in the mood.”

Bill laughs, a deep chuckle, and shakes his head.

“It’s so easy,” she says after a long silence of chomping on berries and sipping on wine.

“What?” he asks.

“Us. Our companionship,” she murmurs as she runs her fingers along the light fabric of her skirt. “I’ve missed it, Bill.”

He looks over at her and she blushes as he studies her face. She looks at him, a glance sideways, and smiles. “Me too,” he says as he stretches out his legs and leans back on his hands.

She closes her eyes and feels the cool breeze off the lake hit her face, a welcome respite from the heat.

“What else did you want to do up here?” she asks. She keeps her eyes closed.

“Get some weed,” he replies. She laughs and grins up at the sun.

“Scope out the land for the cabin, get some weed,” she muses. “Some kind of carefree life we lead, Bill.”

She feels Bill shifting and looks to see him standing up. “It’s hot,” he says. “And that stream is calling my name.”

Laura laughs again and watches him head toward the stream. “It’s cold,” she says, yet she follows him.

He leans down to the water and dips his hand into the swiftly moving stream. He splashes it on his face just as she walks up to him. He grunts and shakes his head and drops of water from his hair hit her upper chest.

“Feels good,” he says.

“About time something does,” she responds. She shifts on her feet next to him and her arm brushes his. She’s cautious now with him, cautious about what signals she sends since he didn’t pick up on them at the groundbreaking ceremony. She was so forward then, so forward that it makes her blush now, at the side of this stream, in the middle of what could quite possibly be their sanctuary some idyllic day in the future.

She had wondered, when he was away on Galactica and she was suffering down in the slums of this Gods forsaken planet, if he’d regretted that night at all, or if he missed her in the ways that she missed him. She felt like she needed him too badly some nights she spent alone in her tent, listening to the harsh wind howl through the spaces in the canvas.

She touches his arm now and strokes his bare forearm from elbow to wrist. He looks over at her with a crooked half-smile. “Laura,” he says, and it sounds simple, plain, yet like it’s carrying so much.

She feels her heart flutter in her chest. “Yes?”

He takes her hand. “Walk with me,” he says.

She feels him tug on her hand as he begins to walk into the stream. She follows—the water streams over her bare feet and she’s surprised at how warm it is and how deep the current is around her calves. The bottom of her skirt gets wet and clings to her skin as he continues to walk toward a boulder in the middle of the stream.

Bill stops suddenly and turns to her. She smiles because it’s quirky that he’s led her into the water. He pulls her hand up to his mouth and kisses her knuckles and she sees the expression in his eyes turn from lighthearted to serious.

“Do you ever think about the last night we were here together?”

All Laura hears is the bubbling of the stream rushing past them. He keeps her hand at his mouth and watches her reaction, which, irritatingly enough to her, is another blush.

“Every second,” she whispers, and she feels the sudden, threatening burn of tears.

Bill pulls her hand from his mouth to his waist and she, by effect, moves closer to him. His other hand finds the back of her hair and he strokes it, then cups her head in his hand.

“Please.” It comes out as nearly a whimper, past her lips as a plea and a question.

Bill kisses her, and it’s his mouth open immediately to hers, and hers to his—their tongues tangle needily, their bodies pressed together, holding fast against the current around them.

She moans softly as his hands quickly travel from her hand and her hair to the hemline of her camisole. They slide underneath, across sticky, hot skin, and she hums into his mouth as they graze the bottom of her breasts, his fingers slipping over her fabric-covered nipples.

“What is this?” he growls, and she feels his palms work against the lace fabric under them.

“Tory lent me some of her things,” she breathes. “We’re the same size.”

“Gods,” he groans. He tugs up her camisole and pulls it up over her head and her heart is beating so rapidly she can feel it against her chest. Her bra is black lace, and his eyes scorch over her as they drink her in—she knows she looks amazing, her breasts pushed up, her hair over her shoulders. She can tell he thinks so too.

Bill cups her breasts and kisses her neck. “As much as I love this, it needs to go,” he whispers into her ear. She feels herself start to throb with expectation as he unhooks her bra and tosses it to the bank of the stream. His hands slide over the newly-exposed flesh. His palms press against her breasts and weigh each of them, fingers gently stroking over the tops of them.

“For that matter, these can go as well,” Laura says as she grabs his tanks and tugs them upward. He helps her and pulls them over his head, then slips his hands up her bare back and pulls her against him. She’s thrilled at the feeling, so thrilled that she whimpers in the back of her throat at the touch of his bare, hot skin against her own. He kisses her again and she doesn’t want to stop, not now, not ever.

They kiss more desperately and his hands move to her skirt, and she lets him pull it down and she steps out of it, the bottom half of it now soaked by the stream. “This is utterly insane,” she breathes against his mouth, lost in another kiss. “We’re in the middle of a stream, Bill. On the top of a mountain.”

“I’m a romantic guy,” he quips as his fingers slip under the waistband of her black lace panties. She groans and tucks her hands under the sides of his pants. She feels the hot, tight skin of his hips and wants more, needs more. She pushes, tries to tug them down, and he laughs and unbuttons his fly so she can slip his pants down his legs and toss them aside.

“Now we’re a little more equal,” she murmurs, and she dips her head to run her tongue along the side of his neck. His fingers dig deeply into the curve of her ass and he holds her tightly against him, a low hum in his chest as she explores his skin with her teeth and tongue.

“Always equal,” he says.

Laura smiles into his skin, her body warm not just from the sun and the heat but from the feeling of his body so close to her own. It had been a long time since she’d felt sexy, but Gods, did she feel that way now. She turns her head to look at a large, flat rock near the edge of the stream.

“Walk with me,” she says. She grabs his hand and pulls him behind her. She leads him to the rock, then turns around and puts her hand on her hip. She tilts her head with a smile.

“How about here?” she says as her breath quickens at the thought.

Bill laughs sharply and runs his hand over the smooth surface of the rock. “Your ingenuity never ceases to amaze me, Laura.”

She twines her arms around his neck and kisses him hard—their tongues battle for power yet again, and this time, he lets her win. She cherishes it as she runs her tongue along his ridged teeth and nibbles on his full, amazing bottom lip.

She steps away and scoots herself up onto the rock. It’s warm and wet against her barely-clad bottom and she lies back to feel the hot rock against her skin.

“Right here,” she says. It’s the sole thought in her head, yet it means everything to her.

x x x x

It feels nearly baptismal, the way he dips his hands into the warm water and lets it cascade over the long lines of her skin. It washes away everything—the dirt, the sweat, her fears, the colony. She feels fresh, like something’s sparked anew for the first time in months. The water of the stream flows over her legs gently, the rush of sensation inducing a shuddering, pleasured breath deep in her chest.

His hands follow the rivulets of water as they lead his exploration of her body. His hands smooth her skin, and his hands, Gods, his hands are so soft. She remembers the first time she felt them and how surprised she was at how delicate the skin of his palm felt as his fingers wrapped around hers. This man, with his gentle, soft hands, holds the fate of humanity in them as much as she holds it in her own.

He fondles her breasts and brings her nipples to peaks as she gasps and shifts against the smooth, hard rock at her back. He bends down to lick and suckle at them, all the while keeping her gaze. She can tell he’s smiling even though his mouth is occupied. His hands slip over her sides and hips, down her legs, back up.

“I feel better,” Laura sighs as he leaves a trail of tingles on her body. “Less hot.”

“Good,” he replies, his fingers light on her hipbones, then across her abdomen. She shivers and feels her hips rise to him in response, warmth pooling deep inside her at the knowledge that he’s so close to where she desperately wants him to touch.

“Bill, please,” she whispers, and the look in his eyes softens slightly. He smiles and kisses her forehead, then hooks his fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulls at them. She lifts her hips to help him and soon they’re tossed to the nearest grassy patch along the stream bed. She can hear his breath hitch as he runs his fingers down to the apex of her thighs.

They wander over her sensitive skin and she spreads her legs instinctively to his caress. Her eyes flutter close and she concentrates on the feel—the water running over the lower half of her body, the hot sun on her skin, his breath against her cheek as one finger slips inside her, where she’s wet and waiting for this very moment. She cries out softly, a small, strangled cry from deep in her throat, and he lets another finger join the first, and soon she’s rocking her hips with the movement of his hand, slow and deliberate.

Laura listens to him groan softly as his fingers feel her from the inside, and she clutches around them, wanting him deeper.

She arches her hips with a gasp as he strokes her clit with his thumb—she can’t help it, this is what he does to her, sets her on fire, makes her body beg for more. Always more.  
At the first touch of Bill’s tongue to her folds she whimpers. Her hand slips down her stomach to twine in his hair, to clutch at the back of his head as he begins to consume her, his tongue insistent as his teeth graze her flesh. She feels him begin to work harder against her, and she against him—and she’s reaching the edge too quickly, much too quickly, and her hips rise to his mouth desperately before she murmurs, “Not yet, Bill. Not yet.”

“I know,” he murmurs, and she feels him pull away and she settles her hips lower on the rock. She draws her feet up to ready herself for him—she’s so ready, warm and dripping wet. Her body shivers with delight as she feels him settle between her thighs, and she grabs him and directs him inside her. He follows her lead and slides deep into her, and it feels right. So right.

They gasp together and their eyes meet, unspoken words rushing through her head, and she tries to pluck a few of them to murmur to him while he smiles at her, his gorgeous, rare smile.

“I love you,” she whispers as she puts her hand on his cheek. “And I want you in my life in every way possible.”

“I love you, too,” he murmurs, kissing her palm. She can see his eyes mist over and she swallows a lump in her throat. “I’m as happy as I’ve ever been in my life when I’m with you. I know that’s a strange thing to say, given everything that’s happened since we met, but it’s true.”

Laura laughs softly and slips her arms around his neck. She pulls him closer and whispers in his ear. “We should have done this a long time ago.”

Bill moves his face to kiss her—their lips part and she again tastes the sweetness of the berries, the rich taste of the drink they’d shared, as he begins rocking into her body, slowly, luxuriously. She wraps her legs around his hips and draws him closer. He groans and buries himself deeper into her body as her back arches and her breasts graze against his chest. She moans against his mouth and he responds with his own, and it’s give and take with them, she realizes as his breath quickens with hers, as they break their kiss to gasp.  
Laura whimpers with his thrusts and anticipates each one more eagerly. He slips his hand between them and flicks her clit and she whimpers, over and over with the motion of his finger, and he groans into her neck as she feels herself start to shudder around him. She digs her fingernails into his cool, muscular shoulders and clings to him as she cries out his name. She rides the wave of her orgasm, and he quickly follows her into the abyss. Whispers of her name tickle the side of her neck.

Bill shifts to lie beside her on the rock and pulls her body against his, and his kisses cool her sun-warmed face. “I’m going to have a sunburn from lying on this rock,” she says.

“Mmmmm,” he murmurs.

“You don’t care, do you?” She laughs softly as he snuggles his warm body into her side.

“Of course I do,” he says, and before she realizes what he’s doing, he’s got a palmful of water and splashes it across her chest. It’s much cooler than her skin now and she squeals and tries to wiggle away from him, but he’s got his arm around her shoulders tightly. He splashes her again.

“Bill!” she giggles. Her limbs slip on the rock and she finally breaks free of his embrace to slide down the cool surface and land feet-first in the water. She uses both hands to cup water and tosses it right at him. It hits his face and his chest and he grimaces.

“You may have won the battle, but not the war,” he growls as he hops off the rock.

Her peal of laughter echoes through the valley.

\- the end -  
  



End file.
